


Cuttle

by yeaka



Series: Neon Tetra [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: After his first day with Noctis, Prompto’s sent to bed.





	Cuttle

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set in the same AU as some other ficlets wherein hybrid cat!Prom is Noctis’ pet from Niflheim, but it’s stand-alone and you don’t need to read them for this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They’re still playing King’s Knight by the time the sun sets, but they’ve migrated back to the bed, with Noctis lounging against the headboard and Prompto all but sprawled out in his lap. From what Prompto understands, Noctis is the better player, as well he should be, given that Prompto only learned a few hours ago. So Prompto pays him rapt attention, even though it grows increasingly difficult. The rapidly changing pictures on the tiny screen are fascinating, but the touch of Noctis’ spare hand is intoxicating. When Noctis’ hand brushes idly back through his hair, Prompto’s lashes flutter, eyes almost rolling back into his head. He’s in a constant state of purring. He wants to nuzzle into Noctis’ neck and breathe Noctis in, do nothing else but snuggle up with all of Noctis’ handsome warmth, but when he squirms too much, Noctis tells him, “Cut it out.” So Prompto does. He tries to be still and let Noctis play in peace. 

He tries to learn the complicated moves that Noctis explains to him, bust mostly, he’s focusing in on the way Noctis’ thumb rubs against the bottom of his ear. He tries to keep them from twitching so he doesn’t startle Noctis away. As casual and relaxed as Noctis is, Prompto’s never gotten so much attention. Or at least, so much _positive_ attention. And Noctis is _so warm_.

The game over screen flashes, and Noctis stiffens, swearing. Prompto lets out an empathetic whine. Then Noctis passes the phone over, but Prompto shrinks away from taking it, because as much as he enjoys it, he can tell that his new master isn’t satisfied yet, and besides, he’s feeling too languid to perform well. He’s an energetic person by nature, but right now, he’s all zoned out on _Noctis_.

Noctis concedes, “One more,” and starts up again. He’s barely made it past the opening play when a knock sounds against his door, and he calls without looking up, “Come in.”

The bedroom door peeks open, and Prompto tenses at Noctis’ side, _just in case_ , but it’s no one menacing. He should’ve known that—they’re safe within the palace—no need to be a skittish _scaredy cat._ The tall man with glasses that brought them food earlier slips into the room. He’s trim and very proper-looking, though perhaps less so than the guards Prompto’s seen walking the halls. Noctis seems to call him ‘Ignis’ or ‘Iggy.’ But Noctis doesn’t greet him now, just keeps playing.

Ignis walks towards the bed anyway, stopping just short. He tells Noctis, “It’s time for bed.”

Noctis snorts, “Thanks, Mom,” which gives Prompto a moment’s pause, because he doesn’t think Ignis could possibly be Noctis’ mother, and Prompto’s sure that’s what ‘mom’ means. For one thing, Ignis isn’t nearly old enough, unless maybe Noctis was made or changed in a lab like Prompto, but Prompto doesn’t think that’s the case. So maybe Noctis is making some sort of joke—Prompto makes a mental note to learn Noctis’ kind of humour. 

Ignis ignores the statement entirely and pointedly looks at Prompto. But it sounds directed at Noctis when he asks, “Where will he be sleeping?” Instantly, Prompto latches on tighter, hands clinging to Noctis’ shirt and his leg digging in between Noctis’, fastening himself firmly to Noctis’ side. Ignis goes on, “Should I prepare one of the guest rooms?”

A whole room to himself sounds unreal, but Prompto doesn’t want it—he nuzzles his face into Noctis’ shoulder and bites his lip to keep from protesting. It’s not his place to pester Noctis, and he promised he’d behave. It makes him feel a little better when Noctis resumes petting him. 

Noctis says so very casually, “He can sleep with me.”

Hiding his face in Noctis’ side, Prompto purrs loudly—can’t help it. 

Ignis slowly replies, “That would be highly inappropriate.”

“Why? He’s just a cat.”

Again, Prompto holds his tongue. All day, he’s thoroughly enjoyed being Noctis’ cat. But now that they’re talking about sleep and beds, and Prompto’s grown so swiftly and so thoroughly attached, it sort of stings to know that that’s how Noctis thinks of him—just an animal. Then he scolds himself for being ungrateful—he’s already getting more than he deserves. May as well be thankful and enjoy it.

Ignis corrects, “A cat with enough human anatomy.”

“And I’m a grown man,” Noctis counters. “I can sleep with humans too if I want.” 

Prompto’s heart starts beating that little bit faster again. Ignis presses, “Your father wouldn’t approve.”

Noctis just snorts, “Like I care.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, during which Prompto has to fidget and knead Noctis’ shirt and flick his tail just to dispel some energy, because he wants to talk up a storm—he’s very much a grown man too, but _can he still sleep with Noctis? Please?_ But he’s smart enough not to interrupt when his betters are having important discussions. At least Noctis doesn’t seem to mind his antics. 

Finally, Ignis sighs, “I believe I can concoct a suitable cat-bed next to yours. Enough blankets should provide adequate padding for even a human bone structure.”

Prompto finally looks back at Ignis, smiling happily, because he likes the sound of that. But Noctis’ hand slips down to Prompto’s waist, latching almost possessively on, and Noctis firmly announces, “There’s no need for that. There’s plenty of room in my bed.” And _that_ sounds even better.

Ignis gives Noctis a subtle look, a quietly withered one, but one of long acceptance. He asks, “Should I at least bring pajamas?”

“Nah, he’s about my size. He can just borrow some.”

Ignis nods curtly. Then he bids, “Good night, Noct,” and, to Prompto’s surprise, he looks at Prompto next, adding, “Good night, Prompto.” 

Prompto chirps, “G’night, Iggy,” because it’s easier to pronounce than the whole thing. Ignis lifts a brow and, after Noctis’ muttered good night, he turns to go. It isn’t until the door’s shut again that Noctis actually turns off the King’s Knighted game. Prompto curiously watches him set the phone aside, and then he’s detangling himself from Prompto’s grip, which Prompto _tries_ not to be distressed about.

Climbing over and off the mattress, Noctis crosses the room. Prompto scrambles to follow, through another door that Noctis opens and into a smaller room, one lined with clothes. Prompto actually stops in his tracks, looking around wide-eyed, even though he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He keeps forgetting he’s wound up with a _prince_. Noctis busies himself with some folded pieces tucked into drawers against the wall, and then he straightens and brings an armful of fabric over to Prompto. He holds it out until Prompto takes it, explaining, “Here, change into these.” 

Muttering a sheepish, “Thanks,” Prompto hesitates over where to put them. Then he finally tucks them between his legs and holds them there as he starts pulling his current shirt up.

It’s only halfway over his chest before he realizes he probably shouldn’t be doing that _in front of Noctis_. It’s rude, he thinks, and he can already tell his body’s nowhere near as good as Noctis’ anyway, so he’s only going to embarrass himself. Noctis’ eyes linger on the movement for a split second, his cheeks slightly pinker than usual, and then he solves the dilemma for Prompto by walking around him and saying, “I’ll change outside.”

Aloud, Prompt says, “Okay.” But inside, he’s cringing at himself. At least he’s gotten good over the years with feeling one thing and looking another. With Noctis gone, he hurriedly changes, even though he wants to look back and catch whatever glimpse of Noctis he can, because Noctis is probably just as gorgeous out of clothes as he is in them.

When Prompto’s done, his old clothes in a heap at his feet and the new ones draping loosely over his thin form, he to takes a minute just to appreciate that. The sleeves are nice and long, cutting just across his palms, which lets him hide the barcode he’s always been ashamed of. And better yet, it smells like _Noctis_ —he lifts the collar up to enjoy that, then forces himself to stop it. 

Before he leaves the closet, he asks, “Can I come out?” And then, “What do I do with the old clothes?”

“Just leave ‘em,” Noctis tells him, “And sure.” So Prompto does, wandering back out into the bedroom.

He remembers to shut the door again behind him, which makes his sleeve fall a bit back, so he tugs it down again before he turns to Noctis. Noctis’ eyes are instantly on his wrist.

Prompto gets a few seconds to admire the new view—Noctis in plain, comfortable-looking dark-blue pajamas, which compliment his striking hair. Then Noctis is grabbing Prompto’s wrist and gently pulling away the sleeve. He eyes the barcode there like it’s new, even though he must’ve seen it sometime during the day.

It makes Prompto ridiculously nervous, even after Noctis lets him go again. He instantly covers it up, though there doesn’t seem much point anymore. 

Noctis asks like it’s nothing, “Does it bother you?”

Prompto’s cheeks heat up, but this time for all the wrong reasons. “Yeah.”

“Don’t let it.” When Prompto tilts his head, Noctis shrugs. “It just looks like a regular tattoo. Gladio’s got tons of those.” Except it’s _not_ , and Prompto’s not completely sure who Gladio is—was he the thick one behind Noctis earlier? “But if it’s really bugging you, we can get you a wristband or something.”

Prompto would always have it covered if he could. He means to ask for that, but instead, he blurts, “You’re really nice.”

Noctis really does blush then. He lifts a hand to scratch at the back of his head and looks away, grunting, “It’s fine.”

It’s more than fine. But before Prompto can argue, Noctis is heading to the bed. Prompto instantly follows. Noctis gets in first, shuffling over and holding up the covers, which Prompto practically bolts into. He knows that there’s enough room in the bed for four grown men, and he should probably give Noctis some space, but instead, he glues himself to Noctis’ side. He snuggles up to all of Noctis’ joyous heat, and he mumbles a nearly-giddy, “Thanks, Noct.”

Noctis repeats, “It’s fine.” Then he fetches his phone from where he left it, and when he clicks a button, the lights flick off. The tall windows still let in plenty of light from the stars, but the mood’s set. Prompto’s had a long day, and even with all his questions and insecurities, he’s quickly tired. 

He falls asleep locked in Noctis’ arms, and he has the best night’s sleep he’s ever had.


End file.
